


Backfire

by mechahotwings



Category: Spyro the Dragon (Video Games)
Genre: Come Inflation, Cunnilingus, F/M, Interspecies Sex, Large Cock, Size Difference, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 10:36:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21052997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechahotwings/pseuds/mechahotwings
Summary: When you try to use a grimoire you bought from Half Price Books, a summoning spell backfires horribly. Now you're the unexpected guest of Gunnar, a giant green dragon who you have a fun time with.





	Backfire

**Author's Note:**

> Is this furry? Should I tag this as furry? Idk

You landed in the dirt on your stomach, sending up a pale cloud of dust on impact. You sputtered and coughed, rubbing grit out of your eyes and trying to pull yourself to your feet. Wherever you were, it was hot. The sun beat down mercilessly upon the canyon, and you could already feel sweat start to bead on your brow.

You bent down and picked up the spell book, brushing off debris from the worn red leather. So much for magic being bullshit. Who knew you would find something legitimately arcane at Half Price Books. Fingers flicking through the thin pages, you tried to find something helpful. The book was filled with arcane symbols and diagrams and thin, spidery handwriting. What was the spell you tried for the hell of it?

When you saw the familiar picture, you paused. It was an ink drawing of a dragon with spread wings and a spout of flame spewing from its open maw. “How to Summon a Dragon.” Obviously, the spell backfired. Maybe using your Yankee Candles wasn't an appropriate substitute for ones made of tallow, and maybe using a pair of crocodile leather shoes instead of “real” dragon scales was a bad idea too. Now you were in Arizona or New Mexico or wherever the fuck canyons were and you had no phone and no wallet and--

You took a deep breath and kept scanning through the tome. There had to be a teleportation spell that would get you back home, right? If there wasn't… well, you didn't want to think about it.

A thunderous boom rang out in the canyon, making you drop the book in surprise. Picking it up again, you tucked it under your arm and began walking in the direction you thought you heard the sound. A second shot echoed, and you picked up the pace. People were nearby, and you wouldn't have to rely on stupid magic to go home.

What you learned on your arduous trek is that the acoustics in canyons carried for miles. There was no telling how long you'd been plodding over rocks and scrub; the sun was at its zenith when you arrived and now it was not. Still, the booming continued and you sat your ass down on a flat rock to take a break. You used the book of spells to fan yourself, blowing your hair out of your face. If only you had water or, even better: air conditioning. The seat of your pants was uncomfortably hot on the stone.

The sooner you found the source of the noise, the sooner you'd get back to civilization. So you got to your feet and continued your hike.

A stone jostled in your shoe. Blisters were forming on the soles of your feet. Your mouth was parched and dry. But you found the source of the deep booms that reverberated off the cliffs.

It was dynamite. Someone was excavating space within the rock walls, hollowing out a chamber. A crate of explosives was outside the entrance and piles of rubble and timber beside that. There was a lull in the activity, so you stepped up to the mouth of the tunnel and called out.

“Hello? Can you help me?” Your question echoed around in the artificial cave. After a moment, someone replied.

“Yeah. Give me just a minute, and I'll be right out.” The man that responded. His voice was deep and booming in its own right. Footsteps padded closer to the entrance, and the closer they got, the more you realized how wrong they were. Each footfall made the ground tremble and shake. Something big was coming.

A shape ducked out of the darkness and into the sunlight. It was a dragon standing on its back legs, over twice your height. It had horns and claws and wings and teeth-- sharp interlocking daggers of bone that could rend and tear and rip and bite and kill--

With a jolt, you woke up in a gigantic cot. The room was cool and dim, lit with braziers that cast a red glow onto the cool stone. On the nightstand next to the bed was your spell book and a bucket of water. The bucket was too heavy for you to lift, so you drank with your cupped hands, taking in gulps of water until you could feel it sitting heavily in your belly. Then you used your shirt sleeve to wipe off your face and you clambered off the side of the cot and onto the floor. There was no way you'd be getting back in without help.

You followed the line of braziers into the hallway, which led outside to the top of a plateau. The sun was set and a spray of stars shimmered in the night sky.

“You're up.”

Whirling around, you saw a towering figure leaning against the cliff face behind you, just by the entrance. So the dragon wasn't a dream. He took a step forward, into the torchlight. You gasped, despite having seen him before.

He was big. Massive. Green and scaly. He had a crest of black spikes that went from his head and down his spine. There were spikes along his chin, almost like a beard, and petite horns on his head. One of his eyes was covered in a patch. He looked like no stranger to battle; there were pale scars along his arms and yellow underbelly. The edges of his leathery wings were in tatters. And it was impossible to ignore his long, sharp, teeth.

“You're… a dragon.” You said dumbly.

The beast snorted in amusement, his long tail swaying behind him. “Never seen one before?” He asked, folding his muscular arms over his barrel chest. “Well, I guess not since you fainted and all.” He scratched behind a horn. “Anyways, name's Gunnar. Welcome to Peace Keepers.” Gunnar extended a hand-- claw-- to you. You grasped a couple digits in your hand and shook them, being mindful of his nails, and you introduced yourself.

The green scales were coarse like an iguana's. His golden eye scrutinized you.

“How do I get home?”

“Beats me.” Gunnar shrugged. When he saw your shoulders deflate, he made a hasty addendum: “But I'll send a message over to my friends in Magic Crafters first thing tomorrow. They'll get you home in no time. But since it's getting late, I think we should try to sleep.”

\---

It was too warm in the cot with Gunnar. Because of his large size, you were forced closer to the edge. Your arm dangled dangerously over a five foot drop to the floor. The scales of his back were pressing against you, and it was almost like trying to sleep on a clothes dryer. Wingtips poked along your spine. He snored. Deep vibrations reverberated through your body like bass. His tail twitched. Your skin was clammy with sweat. Yes, the cot was big enough for the two of you, but despite the reassurances of Gunnar saying he wouldn't roll on top of you and squish you, you still couldn't sleep.

Maybe it was because you passed out earlier. Maybe it was because dragons were living furnaces. Maybe it was because you still thought Gunnar was going to pop you like a squeezed tomato. It was a toss up, really. Wind whistled through the hall; it brought little relief to your heated skin, but you closed your eyes against it. Then you kept them closed, hoping that you would get through the night.

\---

You woke up in the cot blissfully alone. There was breakfast and fresh water set out for you on the nightstand, so you climbed onto the wood and sat with your legs hanging off. Altogether, there was too much food: cured meats, pieces of cheese, gigantic slices of bread, amazingly large fruits, and equally impressive vegetables. You wondered where Gunnar got it from, but you ate and drank until you were full. Then you shimmied down the table leg and made your way to the exit. The dragon was nowhere in sight, but that suited you just fine; you had to go to the bathroom anyways.

Two things were made acutely known to you: the first being that indoor plumbing was the greatest thing ever. Secondly, you stank. Badly. After a day of plodding around in the canyon heat and a night of sleeping next to a stupidly warm dragon, the smell of your sweat permeated your clothes and your hair. You found a flowing river full of bends and turns and you picked a secluded spot and got down to business. Leaving your shoes on the bank, you stripped down and got into the water to wash your clothes as best as you could. You left your clothes spread out onto a flat rock to dry in the sunlight. Then there was the problem of bathing with no soap, but you did your best to scrub with your fingers.

There was a strong gust of wind and a heavy thump and you turned to see Gunnar standing on the bank. You ducked into the water, only your head poking above the surface. The dragon didn't even bat an eye; he began conversation as if it were perfectly normal to speak with a nude person, probably because he himself didn't wear clothes.

“So I went to Magic Crafters and gave them your spell book. The elder dragons said it might take a few days to get materials.” He paused, noticing the clothes that were slowly drying. “Let me help you with that.” Gunnar lowered himself onto all fours and opened his toothy maw wide, releasing a hot stream of flame over your sodden garments. Then he stopped, took a deep breath, and did it again and again until your clothes were dry.

“Thank you.” You said, still not getting out of the water. Gunnar waited.

“Are… you going to come out?”

“Turn around first.”

The dragon rolled his eye, but did as you asked. You wrung the water out of your hair as best as you could and climbed out of the river to get dressed. When you were ready, you walked up to him. “Did you have something you wanted me to do?” You asked.

“Nah. I was just going to take you back to my den and we could get lunch. It was a pretty long flight and I could use some food. And a nap.” Without warning, Gunnar grasped you in his claws, picking you up and holding you tight against his broad chest. You made a sound of protest, but then he jumped with his powerful back legs and flapped his spread wings. He was airborne, and you clung for your life to the pendant chain around his neck as the two of you rose higher and higher. Gunnar circled around a pillar of red sandstone and the only thing you could hear was the powerful thrumming of the wind beneath his wings. Flight was exhilarating, once the nervousness in your stomach ebbed away.

Wind whipped your wet hair around and you let go of Gunnar's necklace as he swooped up over the tops of mesas. It was over too soon; he landed in front of the den with an impact that shook you to your core, and you braced your hands against the yellow scales of his chest. They were smooth and soft like snakeskin. Gunnar set you down on the ground and you turned back towards him. “Can we do that again?”

Gunnar chuckled; it was a deep rumble. “Maybe later.” He tromped inside and you scurried after him.

“Where are the other dragons?” You asked, talking his arm as he helped you up onto the edge of the nightstand.

“We're scattered around, but some of us live together in claves.”

“And you build things?”

“Yeah. Why do you think that's weird?” Gunnar grabbed what was left of a salami and began to eat.

“Where I'm from, people think dragons are more like…” You hesitated.

“Animals?” He asked. “It would explain why your book was bound in dragon leather.”

“That's impossible.” You shook your head. “There's no such thing as a real dragon where I'm from.”

“You got here, didn't you? Maybe all the dragons in your world left.”

There were more denials and arguments bubbling up within you, but you swallowed them down. He had a point. Maybe they were just all gone.

Gunnar had finished his salami and started picking out bits of it from between his teeth with his long claws. “What spell were you even trying to use out of that book anyways? A portal spell?”

“No. The spell was for summoning a dragon.” You turned away, running a hand through your hair.

“Why were you trying to do that if you thought dragons aren't real?” He asked, his brows furrowing in confusion.

“I don't know. Shits and giggles?” Heat flushed your face and you frowned. It was all more than a bit embarrassing-- in your head, it was all supposed to go the way you wanted it to. But as it turned out, dragons were a bit more terrifying in person than artwork led you to believe. Hell, you fainted.

“Magic isn't a toy.” Gunnar scolded. “Don't they teach you that? That's like, one of the first few things dragonets are taught.”

“But magic isn't supposed to be real either.” You replied, sounding petulant.

“‘Course magic is real. It travels with the dragons.” He scratched behind a horn. “I guess that dragon leather had enough left for you to get here. Now c'mon. It's my nap time. You're not obligated to join me, but it gets really hot out there in the afternoon.” Gunnar got into his cot and laid on his back, taking up almost all of the space. So you climbed in the cot and clambered onto his chest, laying face down on the smooth scales. He didn't say anything, but laid his head back as you pressed an ear to him. His heartbeat was like a kettledrum, loud and powerful. You could feel it pass through into you. For a while you just laid there, listening and sweating. The beat of Gunnar's heart slowed and then his breathing grew deeper. At least he could sleep easy.

You were not so lucky.

Gunnar was snoring again. In your new position, the vibrations were pressing against your entire being. You gasped softly, the rumbles between your legs sending a pleasant buzz to your brain. Then it stopped. Nuzzling into him just slightly, palms against where his pectorals were, you pressed yourself tighter against him as the next snore came. Heat pooled between your thighs as your core got another pulse, but it wasn't quite enough for you.

Sure, there was some shame in doing this to Gunnar, who was being a very generous host, but when would an opportunity like this present itself again? You sat up, your legs spread as wide as they could go against your bed mate's hulking frame, situating the apex of his barrel chest tight against your sex. Another snore ripped out of Gunnar, making you give a deep exhale. You wanted him closer; you wanted your wet folds against his scales, but you didn't want to risk waking him. Then another snore rocked through you, and you bore your weight down, sighing with the intensity of the vibrations. It was almost like putting your crotch over a subwoofer with the bass turned all the way up. You made a subtle rocking motion with your hips and lifted a hand to your chest to grope at your breasts through your clothes. If Gunnar kept it up, you'd be coming in no time.

There was another snore, and you rocked against him a little more urgently. He sputtered, sending out sparks that fizzled into nothing. Then his gold eye was fixed on you straddling him and groping yourself.

“What are you doing?” He asked lowly.

“Nothing.” You said, lowering your hand. “It itched.”

“Right.” The disbelief in his voice was plain to hear. “Is this… normal for you humans?” He asked, pushing you back to sit up and prop himself up on his elbows.

You licked your dry lips and felt sweat roll down the back of your neck. You could lie. It was just a harmless white lie, and he probably wouldn't know any better. “We're sensitive to certain stimulus.”

“And my snoring was stimulating?” He snorted.

“The vibrations were stimulating.” You corrected.

“So now you're--”

“Worked up.”

“Do you need to find a private place to relieve yourself?” He scratched behind a horn, sounding more concerned than anything.

“I could.” You hesitated, putting your palm flat against his abdomen. “But it's much more effective to alleviate this with a partner. If you're willing. I'm not going to force you, but maybe it would be good for the both of us.”

Gunnar scrutinized you. You could almost hear the gears turning in his head. “Okay. Show me what I need to do.”

So you began stripping down. He watched as your clothes were removed piece by piece, the garments sliding off of him and onto the cot until you were nude. Without being prompted, Gunnar reached out with a massive hand, gently grazing his thumb from your shoulder and over your breast. The tip of his claw dragged against your skin, but didn't cut it.

“So smooth and soft.” He marveled. A palm slid from your thigh down to your knee.

But Gunnar wasn't the only one doing exploring; you reached out, your palm flat against the smooth yellow scales, trailing over where his breastbone was. You leaned upwards and planted a kiss on the tip of his snout, just under his nasal horn. Then you opened your mouth and dragged your tongue over one of his dagger-like teeth. Gunnar made a breathy sound with hot air pluming against your face. His teeth parted and his tongue slid out, flat and tapered, tracing along where you had just licked him.

You brought yourself closer, and that flat tongue lapped at your cheek, not unlike a dog's. When you opened your mouth, Gunnar brought his tongue inside, and it rubbed against yours as you closed your lips around it and gave the appendage gentle sucks. A deep rumble reverberated through him like a growl, and it made your breath hitch as you parted.

He rolled to the side and you tumbled to the cot with a cry of surprise as Gunnar resituated himself. Each of his claws were planted by either side of your head and his snout was pushed forwards. His teeth scraped against your skin and his hot, wet tongue traced along your body. The tip slid down from your lower jaw and Gunnar applied more pressure, laving the sensitive area of your throat with broad swipes. The point of the tongue flicked upwards from the bottom of a breast and over the stiff nipple, and you gasped. He focused his attention there, pushing into the soft mounds with his face,

Gunnar gave you sloppy, drooling licks across your chest until the sensitive buds were coated with wet heat. A pressure was building in your core, and you grabbed his head by his little black horns and urged him further down your body, spreading your legs as you did. He nipped at your tummy, sending pricks of pleasure into your nerves as he reached the delta between your legs. Gunnar's flat tongue dragged along your lips, and you reached out a hand to grab his wrist.

His gold eye watched as you used your other hand to reach down and spread your folds for him, giving him an unimpeded view of your most intimate part. Then his tongue slowly dragged over your sex, able to encompass the whole thing--even rubbing against your clit-- with a lazy curl. You breath left you in a hoarse whisper of “fuck” and Gunnar continued his assault on your pussy.

The feeling of his hot saliva, the occasional prickle of teeth, and the intensity of his licking gave you a white-knuckled grip on his horns and your breathing hitched as heat and pressure coiled within you like a spring. You were babbling incoherently at the massive dragon, barely able to string together a sentence.

“Gunnar-- hnng -- holy shit -- don't stop -- please please please -- Gunnar”

He was spurred on by your begging and pleading and his eye rolled up towards you, taking in the mess you were-- how you gripped his wrist with one hand and rolled a pert nipple between your finger with the other-- and how your eyes were focused solely on him and his ministrations.

“Do you know what I think?” He asked, his voice a low rumble as he pushed the tip of his snout against your mound.

“Yeah?” A bead of sweat rolled down the back of your neck as you twirled a finger around your areola.

“I think--” he paused and lashed his tongue against your dripping sex and you gasped “--that this was the goal.” His foreclaws came down over your thighs, pinning you spread eagle on the sheets.

A flush colored your cheeks and you panted when Gunnar got onto his knees, his teeth prickling against your inner thigh.

“That you wanted to summon a dragon to breed with.”

You could see that a thick, pink appendage had emerged from his slit. It was maybe a foot long and as big around as your wrist at the base with a conical head. Veins bulged along the turgid length and it glistened with a clear fluid.

“Admit it, human. You jumped at the chance to breed with me-- at the hope I'd play along with your game.”

Your heart thudded loudly in your chest. Yes, you supposed that you had been so transparent, but you were far from ashamed. With ease, Gunnar flipped you over onto your stomach, his claw tips prickling along your hips as he forced you to your hands and knees. His entire massive body was curling around you, cocooning you in heat as you felt his slimy cock slide against your belly. He was waiting, his breaths heavy in your ear.

“It's not going to fit.” You breathed, your heart pounding in your veins as Gunnar's teeth grazed against your neck.

“It will.” He snarled, his voice low and rumbling in his chest, against your back. It sent a hot bolt of arousal through you. “You haven't answered me, human. Did you or didn't you want to summon a dragon to breed with?”

His flat tongue painted a wet stripe along your shoulder. You could hear the clear liquid dripping off of his shaft onto the cot with a soft patter. It was obscene and you wanted him inside you, wanted to be covered in him.

“Yes.” The admission was a hiss of want, and you rocked back so your ass was pressing against his smooth underbelly.

Gunnar pulled away from you, and you were about to give a needy whine when you felt the pointed head of his dick tracing along the edges of your lips, coating you with the clear liquid. The skin there began to feel warm and sensitive, and he frotted against you, sending his shaft back and forth against your parted lips in a smooth slide that provided some friction against your clit. Your eyes fluttered shut in a breathless moan, barely above a whisper.

When your pussy was drooling with Gunnar's secretions, only then did he insert himself into you. It wasn't much at first-- only a few inches plunged into your depths, not even enough to stretch.

You tried to thrust yourself back into him, but his claws were like iron against you, holding you in place.

“Gunnar.” You whined.

“Patience.” He rumbled, nipping against your back.

There was a change happening, and you could feel it. That hot, clear fluid was seeping out of his cock into you, making your core tingle in warmth. There was a small degree of numbness that came with it and you could feel your muscles loosen. Gunnar pressed forwards a little more, letting the liquid roll deeper inside. His breathing was heavy and guttural as if he was holding himself back. With maddening care, inch by inch, he was becoming sheathed in your cunt. You could feel yourself stretching now; it was a gradual thing that made your lips hot and your breath shallow.

Lowering your head to peek past your dangling breasts, you saw a sizeable bulge distending your skin from the inside as Gunnar delved within you. The stretching that was occurring would have been unbearable if not for whatever was leaking out of his dick, but you just felt a pleasant numbness in your relaxed muscles. You felt his smooth belly scales against your ass, and you were completely impaled upon his thick shaft. Your knees wobbled at the sight of the obscene lump of Gunnar's erection through your stomach, as if you were nothing more than this dragon's cock sleeve.

Which, for the moment, you were.

The claws that had been holding up your hips tightened their hold as Gunnar began to rock back and forth gently. You were incapable of speech at the feeling of his massive rod sliding in and out. He grunted as you were rooted to the spot, transfixed by the moving lump of skin and muscle that painlessly distended you. What should have been obtrusive and agonizing was only a firm pressure to your insides that sent a thrill up your spine.

Gunnar picked up speed, and you could hear his scales slapping against your ass. Your tits bounced and swayed into your view as you continued to observe your impalement. The clear, thick secretion of his cock was oozing out of you, puddling onto the cot. With the loss of sensitivity in your cunt, you reached down, coating the numbing slime onto your lips and delving into your wet folds.

Your forefinger circled the hard nub of your clit, and you let out a breathy pant that was interrupted by the tempo of Gunnar's lurching hips. The force of his steady fucking nearly knocked you over, but then a claw was stabilizing you, palming at your breasts.

The muscles in your abdomen were squeezing down around the dragon's shaft as you stroked yourself, and you heard Gunnar snort and felt his hips stutter as you moaned. You tweaked the sensitive bundle of nerves and persistently stroked side to side, feeling a hot knot of arousal form in your belly. The release you craved was close at hand; a ball of pressure just beneath your navel that was threatening to unravel. Gunnar let out a deep growl next to your ear, and it sent you over the edge.

Your muscles were rippling along the length of his meaty cock, and you let out a high keening at the sensation of being so utterly filled. The dragon, spurred on by your climax, pistoned faster, the head of his shaft slamming into your cervix. This would have been excruciating if not for Gunnar's numbing precum, but all you felt was pressure and the slide of his penetration. He slammed himself into you, as deep as he could go, holding you against him and breathing hard.

Then you felt it. It started at the base of Gunnar's cock; a thickness was rolling its way upwards through your slick lips and inside you. The bulge traveled through your tight muscles and then released as a hot jet of seed directly into your womb. He snarled and jutted his hips into you further as the cum filled you. And filled you. You stared in disbelief as your stomach swelled as if you were in the early stages of pregnancy. It kept growing. Your skin felt too tight as your womb continued to balloon with the dragon's semen. Your stomach was now completely distended, mere inches from the surface of the cot. As Gunnar's cock slid out of you, your limbs wobbled then collapsed, sending you onto the bed.

A groan fell out of your mouth, your hand instinctively caressing the swell of your belly, utterly stuffed.

The dragon looked pleased with his handiwork as his oozing shaft retracted back into his sheath. He leaned towards you and licked a hot stripe over your taut abdomen.

When he spoke, his voice was a low growl. "You'll be like that for a day at least."

"A day?" You repeated, breathless.

"When we come, the last part of it forms a plug." Gunnar began to settle down next to you, curling his body around yours. His claw rested on your gravid abdomen. "It makes sure that our seed takes in our partner dragon."

"I won't be able to fit in my clothes like this."

Gunnar snorted in amusement, his breath ruffling your hair. "Then maybe I'll keep filling you up, every day until we have to go to Magic Crafters." A hot tongue swiped against your shoulder blade, and you shivered. You were looking forward to it.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is appreciated and constructive criticism is welcome, as always.


End file.
